


Almost Poetic

by Ebhenah



Series: Fictober 2018 [9]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Betrayal, Implied Death, Implied Torture, Implied Violence, Treason, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 09:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16678612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebhenah/pseuds/Ebhenah
Summary: Fictober18 Day 9 Prompt "You shouldn't have come here."Original fiction. Original CharactersRating: T- mention of war, betrayal, treason. Implied violence, implied death, implied torture





	Almost Poetic

The knife skittered over her skin, feather-light and she knew that the only reason that the long, thin blade wasn't peeling her flesh back like apple peel was the control exerted by the young, pretty girl who looked like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the way the light caught on the metal, lit up the tiny blond hairs it was shaving off of her arm, and showcased just how very vulnerable she was at the moment. No one knew where she was- she'd made sure of that, herself. So confident she'd been that this was a minor problem, easily overcome with a little bit of intimidation and experience that she hadn't even considered another option for dealing with this. She'd been so wrong, and now she was helpless, thoroughly secured to a chair that was bolted to a grate that drained who knew where.

"I think I see the problem," that soft, demure voice sounded so reassuring, even when the speaker was so clearly a threat. "You thought that because I have heroic, noble friends; because I fight for the 'morally right' side of this conflict; because I espouse values you see as GOOD; that I was safe. That I was chained by some kind of code. That I wouldn't gut you where you stood when I found out your plans. Correct?"

Dread had replaced the fear. That happened when you got scared enough. Terror eventually gives way to a strangely calm certainty… and that's when dread slips in like an icy shadow, completely blotting out the warmth and light of hope before you even notice its arrival. The knife lifted and the girl rolled her eyes, looking for all the world like a little debutante from the neck up. Soft brown curls tumbled out of a ponytail that sat low on the back of her neck secured by an honest-to-god RIBBON. Porcelain skin framed huge, luminous green eyes topped with softly arched, expressive brows; dewy, pink, cupid's bow lips; softly flushed cheeks; and a thin, slightly upturned nose. Only the clothes gave some clue to the steel hidden beneath the doll-like surface- practical cargo pants, secured by a well-stocked utility belt, combat boots and a plain t-shirt- tucked in tight.

"I don't have any plans," she protested weakly, triggering a peal of laughter from her captor.

"Here's the thing," the girl said, carefully emptying her pockets and pouches onto a bare, metal table and arranging the contents of them, just so. Each item was horribly familiar to the woman in the chair. Their ominous presence such a contrast to the gentle, upbeat voice that spoke so calmly. "I admire all those wonderful heroes. I am in awe of their moral fortitude. I adore their passion for their ideals. I love them, you see. I truly do. I love them deeply. I would do ANYTHING to protect them. I would do ANYTHING to further their cause. I will do all the things that they won't if it means shaving even a few days off of this stupid fighting they are called to do. I have your files. You know I have them. You thought you could spin some heartbreaking tail of… let me guess… blackmail? They have someone you love and you need to save them by committing treason? No… you are too career-driven, too isolated for that to work. Hmmm… ah… I know… you'll claim negotiation and compromise. Sacrificing the few, the noble, the people who would gladly die to achieve peace… because that sacrifice would buy us a reprieve, we'll be SPARED. Hand over Spartacus, so to speak. Ahhh, yep- that's your rationalization. I can see it on your face." The girl shook her head, "I cannot believe you used to teach military ethics… it's almost poetic."

"I don't know what you are talking about," she insisted. The girl clucked her tongue and shook her head, using the thin blade to free the tattered remains of the sleeve she'd cut away from the pristine military officer's uniform in order to taunt that edge along bare skin not that long ago. She twisted the shredded fabric into a braided rope and forced it past her captive's teeth, tying it cruelly snug at the base of her skull.

"You thought I was going to be a soft touch, so you came to me to plead your case- because I am young, because I am vocal in my support of the good guys, of the ideals we are fighting for, because I am not quite as smart as people you are willing to hand over to the enemy. You came to me, here… and you found out just how wrong you were about me. You shouldn't have come here. I have no qualms with preemptive execution for treason, and I am very, very good at making sure that it fits the narrative. Don't worry, you'll be remembered as a hero, dying to protect the very people you were offering up on a platter. That's how you want to be remembered, right? Because you are, you know… you die, so I can protect them. See? Almost poetic. It's just your bad luck that the enemy is known to be so ruthless in their 'enhanced interrogation techniques'. Thank-you so much for teaching me all about those in class, by the way. I studied hard. I'm pretty sure I've perfected them."

She set down her knife and picked up a syringe, tapping the bubbles out of the thick, green, liquid with practiced ease. It made for a truly disturbing image: the pretty girl in soldier's clothes, wielding the tools of torture, her be-ribboned hair swaying softly, catching the sparce light, expertly glossed lips making a little moue of concentration, one perfectly manicured, pastel pink nail clicking against the plastic cylinder that the captive knew contained drain cleaner.

"Let's begin."


End file.
